Honor Among Thieves
by ghettopeach
Summary: Nothing like kidnapping to spoil a planet leave.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: I wrote this for my friend corrielle's birthday. The story takes place between "Objects in Space" and the movie. I got the Chinese from a few different sources (fortune cookies and fireflywiki), and they may use different phonetic systems to Romanize the words. I don't speak Chinese, so I wouldn't know. The definitions are footnoted in case you care to know what the words mean.

Constructive criticism welcome. In the meantime, please enjoy!

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Jayne brushed aside the beaded curtains in the doorway and entered the establishment. There was a polished oak bar counter at the far end, and cigar smoke and incense mingled together, hazing up the room. People's movements shifted the smoky mixture languorously about. Jayne's eyes followed one trail to a pair of swaying hips just barely holding up a red silk skirt. He grinned.

No doubt about it: this was a quality whorehouse.

He looked her over. Long, sturdy legs, nice hips and enough breasts to get a good hold of. Moved a bit dainty-like though. Delicate sort. Well, he was looking for something a bit more lively than a do-si-do.

The woman stepped up to the bar and ordered a small bowl of grapes. She noticed Jayne watching her, and she smiled. Plucking a grape from the bunch, she placed it on the tip of her tongue and drew it slowly into her mouth.

_On the other hand, _Jayne thought, his mouth suddenly going dry, _maybe there's something to be said for finesse._

He leaned forward on the bar table and caught her eye. "Duo-shao qian?1" he asked.

"For the grapes?" she said.

"Well, if you want to include them with you."

"More than you can afford," she said with a smile. She leaned back and popped another grape into her mouth.

Jayne grinned back and pulled a wad of credit bills out of his pocket. "That's too bad," he said, flipping through them with a studied nonchalance. "Guess I'll have to go find someone in my price range."

She looked up, swallowing the grape quickly. "Well, maybe we can work us some kind of arrangement."

Jayne put an arm around her waist and crushed her against him. "I like the sound of that."

The warmth of her flesh as she pressed herself against him and ran her hands across his skin was intoxicating and very, very distracting. Jayne never saw them coming.

All he felt was a needle in his arm and then the sudden weakening of his muscles. He turned to look his opponents in the eye, to face them standing, but his legs gave out and he collapsed face-first, his eyes level with a pair of heavy laced boots. One boot drew back and smashed into his face, breaking his nose. Jayne felt the sting of blood trickling down his nose, and as he swallowed, the acrid iron taste filled his mouth.

_Let me face you like a man, you coward-spawned sonsabitches, _he thought as he faded out of consciousness.

-----

When Jayne woke up, he couldn't move his arms. He tried to look down, but his head wouldn't move either. Then he realized that he was being held in place by thick restraints. Something brushed against his forehead—a spider, maybe. No—it had a metallic feel to it. He forced his eyes upward. Long wires trailed from his forehead to a machine across the room, where a small bespectacled man monitored the readouts.

The man looked up and smiled. His face was soft and bland, almost grandfatherly, but the smile….

Not many things gave Jayne a fright. He could probably list them on one hand, if he could move it. Reavers. Running out of money. Rats. More Reavers. Needles. And that smile. It had a snake-like quality that made Jayne's skin feel like it was trying to run off.

"Ah, good, I see you are awake," said Adlai Niska.

"Wuh de ma!2" Jayne flexed his arms against the restraints. "Get these ruttin' things off of me!"

"No, I think then you would make trouble for me," Niska said. "You see, Mr. Cobb, you have reputation. A strong man, but not to be trusted. Not solid."

"I'm plenty solid," Jayne said.

"Oh?" Niska stepped toward Jayne, a faintly mocking interest in his eyes. He flicked open a large jagged knife and rested the blade on his fingertips. "Yes, perhaps today we find out how solid you are."

The corner of Jayne's mouth twitched nervously. "Look, why you got to be all in a stabbing mood? I never done nothing to you!"

Niska shrugged. "No, maybe you do not steal from me. Maybe you say to Captain Reynolds, 'Niska will not like this.' I do not know. But you have friends who cross me. Everybody hears, knows they still live, and there goes the gossip. 'Niska is weak,' is the talk. I take your friends to show I am still strong, to restore my reputation. But in the end they escape—most distressing. It is possible you help them get away, yes?" He closed the knife and adjusted his spectacles, peering at Jayne. "Yes, I think I do not forget a face."

Jayne felt his stomach sink, but he tried to put on a brave front. "Well, I got a lot of people that look like me," he said, giving Niska his best disarming smile. "Hell, even you got to be wrong sometimes."

"Sometimes, yes. But not today." Niska smiled. "You know what you are, Mr. Cobb? You are little fish, swimming around, around… I fish for big fish, I catch you. Not what I want. I can throw you back, maybe. But you have value as little fish, because you know where big fish live." He gestured to a muscular henchman, who opened a large briefcase full of money. "I think you know, perhaps, how to find Captain Reynolds?"

Jayne smirked. "Duo-shao qian?"

"Ah, so you have price for your friends?" Niska leaned forward.

"I've got a price for everything."

"Yes, so I see. And I have money. A good arrangement; perfect, it seems. Only one small thing." He snapped the briefcase shut and stared intently at Jayne.

The smile melted off Jayne's face. "What's that?"

"You see, for business negotiation, you must have trust. Is foundation of everything. You would betray your friends, maybe you would betray me. This is not an acceptable arrangement." Niska stepped back to the machine and shook his head sadly. "So there can be no negotiation."

With that, he flipped a switch on the machine, and burning electrical current surged through Jayne's body.

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1 "How much?" Courtesy of a fortune cookie.

2 "Mother of God!" Courtesy of fireflywiki.


	2. Chapter 2

Here's the second chapter for everyone. I've actually had this around for a while, but just never posted it. Again, the Chinese is footnoted. Let me know what you think!

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Malcolm Reynolds paced across the decks of _Serenity._ Sure, planet leave was nice—everyone could use the odd day or two standing on a surface that wasn't shaking from the vibrations of a trace compression block—but he was itching to get back out to the black. "Wash!" he yelled.

Wash stretched his legs out on the instrument panel. "O captain, my captain!"

"Where in the tyen shiao-duh1 is everybody?"

"Well, Kaylee's fixing the compression coil, Simon and River are playing chess, Book's reading, and the triceratops is plotting a mutiny."

Mal raised an eyebrow, and Wash put his hands up defensively. "Hey, don't look at me. I didn't sign the round robin. It's the T-Rex you've got to watch out for."

"Right," Mal said. "And what about Zoe and Jayne? You know, our actual crew?"

"Oh, I don't think they signed it," Wash said. "Well, Jayne maybe. Although I'm not sure he can write." Noticing Mal's clenched jaw, he offered up a serious answer. "Zoe's putting on a slinky dress for dinner tonight. And Jayne…" He shrugged.

Mal massaged his forehead. "I should never have let Jayne rent the other shuttle."

"I can probably get him on short-range comm," Wash said, reaching for the radio.

"No need," Mal said. "He knows the rendezvous point and time. I was just hoping we could move things ahead some. Feeling a bit out of my element, all land-locked like this."

Wash smiled. "You'll get a chance to stretch your wings soon enough."

Zoe walked into the room, a deep burgundy dress clinging to her body. She ran her fingers lightly across the back of Wash's neck. "You ready, sweetie?"

Wash grinned. "Pleasure before business." He turned to the captain. "Think you can handle her while I'm gone?"

"Her? Oh, the ship. Yes." Mal blinked a few times and patted the cockpit. "We'll be just fine. I'll keep her out of trouble."

"That would be a first, sir," Zoe said.

"Hey! I've behaved plenty of… once."

"Don't mean to malign you, Captain." Zoe's body shifted automatically into a military posture, but her eyes held an entreating look. "It's just… I haven't had a proper night out for nearly a year."

Mal met her gaze and nodded. She nodded back in acknowledgement and relaxed her stance.

Wash placed his hands on Zoe's bare shoulders and stepped in close. "I don't know," he said. "I'm a fan of the improper nights in, myself."

Zoe smiled and laced her fingers through his. "We could always do both."

"Both?" A boyish grin split Wash's face. "Both. You're the best. Isn't she the best?" he asked, turning to the captain. "I don't mean to both… boast, but—"

"Go," Mal interrupted. "You have plans, and I have a date with my ship. Let's get on with it."

"Yes, sir!" Wash said, saluting. He put a hand on his wife's waist and led her out after him onto the planet.

Mal watched them go. It was strange—he had known Zoe for years, spent time with her in the trenches, stood by her in combat, watched her stare unblinking into the eyes of death. You really got to know someone during a war. He never thought anyone would ever know her as well as he did. But then this big-hearted, fun-loving pilot who had never even seen a firefight came along and saw something Mal had never even looked for: the woman beneath the soldier.

_Maybe that's why I didn't want them to get married, _he thought. _I didn't know what to do with this other part of Zoe, with this other part of life. What do you do when the war's over and your friends and enemies scatter and mingle together? What do you do when suddenly the soldiers are all just folk?_

"Just you and me, girl," Mal said, patting the dash panel. "Just you and me and the way things were." He leaned back heavily in the pilot's seat. Suddenly the silence seemed thick with truths and thoughts beyond his capacity to handle. The sooner he got everyone back and headed out again, the better.

Mal reached over and turned on the short-range radio before deciding against it and turning it off again. Jayne said he had business to take care of, which probably meant gambling and whoring, but he'd earned the right to some senseless hedonism as much as the rest, and probably needed it more. No sense interrupting a fellow's fun.

-----

Jayne tried to bite his lip to keep from screaming, but a pair of pliers was clamped around one of his molars. As the pliers tightened around his tooth, he tried futilely to push them away with his tongue, and small bits of rust flaked off into his mouth. _Now that can't be healthsome, _he thought.

The pliers jiggled and twisted, loosening the molar slowly. Jayne tried to ignore the pain, but with his arms restrained, his mouth occupied, and not enough light to see by, there wasn't really much else to concentrate on. He'd heard you were supposed to do math or some such to take your mind off things, but frankly he preferred the torture.

Sixty thousand for Canton. A whole lot more for Ariel. Big numbers that could buy big things. If he'd gotten that money, odds were he wouldn't be here with this eerie-ass excuse for a dentist. Coulda shoulda woulda.

Hell, even if he'd just taken the fed's offer back when… but that would've meant turning on Mal, and—why hadn't he turned on Mal?

The pliers jerked upward, and Jayne's molar detached slightly from his gum. A bit of blood leaked into his mouth.

Why hadn't he turned on Mal? Jayne turned the question over and over in his mind as the pliers rotated, turning the tooth slowly, painfully. Not that he made a practice of betraying his associates—leastaways not as long as there was something in it for him—but hell, he'd pushed men out of airplanes for getting him into less inconvenient situations. Seemed like it would've been the thing to do, somehow.

Then it struck him like a backhand to the face. He _had_betrayed Mal. Or tried to, anyway. Would he really have given away the captain's location? Maybe he was just trying to buy time. But Niska wouldn't've believed if he'd lied—or maybe even if he'd told the truth. Deep down, he knew this. So why had he even tried to play Niska's game?

_Because you're a ruttin' coward, that's why. Death's one thing, and that's bad enough, but facing pain… facing fear and the darkest sides of what a man can do to another man—well, that's something else, isn't it? But hell, anyone would've done the same. No one would've faced that just for somebody else._

Jayne felt a pain like nothing he'd ever experienced as he remembered: _Mal did. _

The pliers jerked upward and the molar ripped from Jayne's jaw. The henchman handed the tooth to Niska, who smiled and dropped it onto a small silver tray.

"How are you feeling?" Niska asked.

"Had worse," Jayne managed to get out, gurgling slightly through the mixture of blood and saliva. He tried not to sound as miserable as he felt.

"Perhaps you would rather not stay with me," Niska said, hooking up a small electronic device in the corner of the room. "Maybe you want to see your friends again, yes?"

Jayne squinted at the device and realized it was a video camera.

Niska smiled. "Let us see if they will come save you."  
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1"name of all that's sacred" Courtesy of Firefly Wiki


End file.
